Sad, very sad

It's miserably hot and wetty here today. One of those days when I feel wrung out simply from walking from the car to the grocery store. So, in a rare moment of exercise avoidance (and it is rare--I'm rather compulsive about exercise) I decide not to roller ski today.

Thus, I wander the house. What can I do indoors to raise up my heart rate and work up a sweat? In this weather, I could simply wander the house to accomplish the latter goal. I could go down to the basement and ride the old Nordic Trak for 30 minutes. Ugh. I'm in a phase of hating machine workouts. Decide to look for a yoga tape. Can't find the one I want. Don't want to try the Pilates one again. Sheesh, that was like abs boot camp--not happening for me.

I pause in my meandering in front of the television. I notice my daughter's dance pad on the floor. Ah ha! Today's exercise. :-)

Takes me 20 minutes to figure out how to manage the technology of the Play Station 2, 3 or29. I have never used it before. Eventually, I figure out how to plug in the dance pad and scrounge around the pile of games for Dance Dance Revolution, the software key to my 45 minutes of sweating.

Better try the training mode first. Maggie the dog sits at the foot of the dance pad, staring at me. She then glances up at the clock, obviously noting that it's already time for her after-exercise walk. I ignore her pointed stares and practice my moves. Ooo, I'm good. The deal is that the dance pad has four arrows upon which you step depending on what arrows is so indicated on the tv screen. The movements are meant to simulate dance steps, keeping with the beat. Simple. I'll be good at this. I was in marching band for many years. I can dance. Sort of.

The training mode finished, I launch into a beginner easy fluffy wuffy cream puffy song. Clearly, even a baby could do this routine. Uh huh. Jonathan walks into the room during this first attempt. Raucous laughter ensues, followed by exclamations of gratitude that no one can see me so his embarrassment is limited to his own private brush with my weirdness.

I am sopping wet. I keep stepping myself off of the dance pad, making it rather difficult to hit the arrows. But every time I look down to reposition myself, I miss a bunch of steps. It appears to me that occasionally one needs three feet to succeed at this game. Or possibly that I have two left feet. I wonder if I missed the instructions likening this game to Twister, and begin pondering the use of both hands and feet.

The damn game BOOS when you miss a step. Now, is that very nice? Is this the kind of treatment we want our sensitive and precious children to receive when they do not succeed at a video game? At this point, I'm thinking I might have to get rid of the game because it is clearly going to teach my daughter the wrong message about making mistakes. Mistakes are good. We learn from them. I think.

After 45 minutes or so of trying the same song over and over, I begin to get it. Sort of. There is less booing and more applause. However, I notice that my shapely calves are starting to ache. I am suddenly reminded of my Sudoku obsession. Have I mentioned this before? I won't go into it all now, but suffice it to say that I don't like failing. At anything. And my definition of failing, unfortunately, appears to be not being awesome at whatever I attempt. So I work and work until I get better. No matter how long it takes. Or how sore my shapely calves are getting.

Sadly, I turn Dance Dance Revolution off, and plop on the couch to ice my achy legs. I am old. I am lame. But I'm getting better at it! But, at what am I improving: DDR or being old and lame?

Liz